


Blindsided

by LotusFlair



Series: A Series of Archival Speculations [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Implied Relationships, Not Canon Compliant, Speculation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 14:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20779766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotusFlair/pseuds/LotusFlair
Summary: Elias watches the Archives...until he doesn't.





	Blindsided

Elias Bouchard was rarely bored in prison. One of the benefits of having access to the memories and daily activities of virtually any member of the population meant he was thoroughly entertained for the majority of his day. The prison officers had been instructed to keep their interactions with him minimal, but there was only so much coaching a person could receive on guarding their mind before the exhaustion of implementing those techniques weakened and cracked. The fun of the game was finding those cracks and slowly working his way in to find the sweet caramel at the center. Then it was just a matter of time before he started dropping hints and twisting the memories to suit his fancy. Sometimes he let the poor unfortunate souls fret and torment themselves over what he did or didn't know and what he would or wouldn't use against them. Sometimes he seeded a thought and let it take root. There was nothing more exciting than watching a garden grow beneath a practiced hand. Well, Eye as it were. Sometimes he read a book. He'd collected quite the little library.

But mostly he watched the archives.

Being arrested was the only option that made sense after the Stranger's ritual was defeated. If they all believed he was in one place, unable to directly interfere, then they could focus on the bigger picture instead of trying to kill him. Not that be didn't admire Melanie's vigor, but the novelty of her persistence had worn thin between the seventh and twelfth attempts. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy watching her expend so much effort to plot his demise, it was the lack of originality that offended him. Her over reliance on knives was an interesting quirk - the first manifestations of the Slaughter that came to fruition with the bullet wound in India. A shame, really, she could've been so much more useful if Jon had just let it be.

Now he was able to sit back, prop his feet up, and enjoy his bird's eye view. He'd been hesitant at first, but the more Peter's influence infiltrated the archives the more he congratulated himself on the precautionary measures to set the Lonely against them. Jon was growing. Even if he was trying to resist, he was still growing. Isolation and hunger were dangerous things and he knew it was only a matter of time before Jon acted on his baser instincts. Lucky for Elias, he was a patient man and, if he was honest with himself, there was some joy to be found in watching the lot of them dither and despair. He was particularly tickled by how things were playing out for Jon and Martin. The urge to request popcorn was strong, but he couldn't risk revealing his advantageous position at the moment.

Today's viewing promised to be more of the same melodrama from the weeks before. Jon now knew about Eric Delano and his drastic actions to sever his connection with the Eye, but one look at him and Elias knew there was no blind man's bluff in the Archivist's future. Of course he'd consider the possibility, who wouldn't? He'd been looking for a way out and here it was, the solution to his problem, wrapped up in a neat little box with a frilly bow at the top. But, like all gifts, there was a cost to be paid and Jon was too much the Eye's prodigal son to dash away the delectable curiosity his eyes craved. Martin's refusal, though hazy to his Sight, merely solidified the hopelessness of the situation. As the days passed, Jon remained the dutiful avatar and consumed his statements while the self-enforced isolation slowly ate away at his resolve. There were arguments with Basira, heartfelt chats with Daisy, and even a civil conversation with Melanie, but they were merely distractions to keep his mind off of the pursuant hunger.

When he focused and began searching for his quarry, Elias found there was no trace of Jon in the archives. He sighed in frustration. They were going into the tunnels more often these days. Not that he could blame them, but the blind spot beneath the archives was a nuisance. He'd have to have a chat with Peter soon about cleaning that particular mess up in the near future. Deciding to wait until after lunch to try looking in on Jon again, Elias's call to the officers fell short when he heard a knock at the door in what was once a solid concrete wall in his cell. The lights flickered, faster and faster, until his cell block was a massive strobe light. Between the rapid blinks of fluorescence, the door opened. The second the Archivist stepped over the threshold, all of the lights save for the ones in Elias's cell went dark.

There stood the withering man who was once Jonathan Sims. He looked ragged, his hands shook involuntarily, and his eyes were unfocused yet unnervingly bright. For all of the pageantry of his entrance, Jon casually sat on the far end of the bunk and lit up a cigarette with his spiderweb lighter. He offered one to Elias.

"No, thank you," he responded primly.

"I figured," Jon said. "You always were fussy about my smoking. I wonder...were you concerned about my health or did you just need the confirmation that I had an addictive enough personality to take to the Eye?"

"I'd call it a Column A, Column B type situation," Elias said.

Jon smiled. "You do like your spreadsheets, Elias."

"Well, not that I don't appreciate the visit, Jon, but what exactly are you doing here?" Elias asked. "I made it very clear to Basira that you weren't allowed to see me."

"I don't care," Jon said. He stared straight ahead, looking through the bars. "What you want is irrelevant. You're in prison...and so are my friends."

Sighing disappointedly, Elias said, "We've been over this, Jon. The employee contracts are legal and _binding_. There's nothing to be done about it so I suggest you move on to something more worthy of your time and efforts."

Exhaling smoke through his nose, Jon looked to Elias with a mixture of contempt and determination. The smile he gave sent involuntary chills down the older man's spine. Rising to his feet, Jon stood face to face with his former employer. There was something of the Hunter in his demeanor as he stared. Taking another drag, he blew the smoke directly into Elias's face. He coughed, waving his hand to banish the acrid smell.

"Tim and Sasha are dead. Daisy's allowing herself to fade. Melanie's tendered her resignation. Martin and Basira are intent on staying put," he said matter-of-factly. "That just leaves me."

Uncomfortable with how close Jon was leaning in, Elias curtly nodded. "In what regard?"

"I've been soul searching - if I still have a soul - and I found myself contemplating a theory that requires some...experimenting," he said. "Unfortunately, there's no one readily available at the archives to help, so I thought I'd visit the one person who could unequivocally provide the answers I need."

"What are you talking about, Jon?" Elias asked, his voice faltering. There was another knock on the door in the wall. It opened again. He felt the world tilt to the left and the sudden vertigo left him speechless and out of breath. He fell to his knees, closing his eyes to stop the dizziness. Jon stood very still, watching him. There was another presence in the room as well, an impossible being made of memories and chaos. When he opened his eyes, she was standing next to Jon with a curious look that melted across her face like Dali painting. Jon knelt in front of Elias, cigarette hanging precariously from his lips as he inspected him with a dismissive glance.

"It's like you said, Elias. You're the beating heart of the institute. After myself, your connection to the Eye is a powerful tool you've flagrantly exploited. But, I wonder...what's a beating heart without its eyes?" Jon took a long drag and blew a heavy cloud of smoke in his face again. The vertigo left Elias's arms uncoordinated as he tried to swat the smoke away. He coughed and choked and in the brief instance when his vision was no longer obscured he saw the sharp, glistening nails of impossibly crooked fingers just as they jammed into his eyes. 

The scream was immense and blood curdling. The prison would probably talk about it for years until it faded into the background of lore and speculation. In the end, the governor would claim that Elias Bouchard managed to convince a heretofore unknown employee of the facility to lend him a pair of knitting needles as a leisurely activity to pass the time. That he planned to gouge his own eyes out was an unfortunate circumstance and the employee responsible, though they wouldn't think of releasing their name, would be dealt with accordingly. That the once calm and collected former head of the Magnus Institute was now a babbling mess only reinforced the mania that had obviously led him to such drastic means of self-harm.

They didn't mention the impossible door in the concrete wall or the hungry-eyed Archivist who took his first fresh statement in almost a year.


End file.
